


Scars That Reach Deeper Than Skin

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Character Development, Comfort, Dark, Developing Relationship, Drunken Confessions, Genital Mutilation, Gentle Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, I’m aware that this is a disturbing topic, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Burns, Past Injury, Rhys doesn't have genitalia because of an accident, Rhys is Handsome Jack's Personal Assistant, Rhys is deformed down there, Scars, Some fluff if you squint, and they explore his sexuality, mild body horror, now the bad stuff, read the author's note, seriously this shit is untaggable, there are good things in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Rhys had turned Handsome Jack's advances down many times, but never asked him to stop, keeping a slither of hope in his heart that the two of them could one day actually end up together. Catching onto the same hope, Jack approaches him one night in a bar, trying again, possibly for the last time, to win his PA's heart, but Rhys' dark secrets bubble up to the surface before that can happen, and there is no way back. Rhys has to come clean about his disability to his boss and the man that he deeply admires. He doesn't know that he is not the only one with deep, ugly scars marring a broken body.*-*-*-*This story deals with a possibly disturbing topic and negative body image. It is about insecurity, overcoming it, trusting someone. But it also has smut, in combination with the possibly disturbing stuff. That's probably what makes it disturbing. Read at your own risk.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Scars That Reach Deeper Than Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stress this enough, heed the tags, heed my warnings.
> 
> This idea came to me semi-randomly. It is not inspired by any real person or situation. I wrote this because I wanted to explore the topic, because I enjoy writing difficult topics and believe that even the dark, bad things should be talked about if you want.
> 
>  **For further clarification,** because of a childhood accident, Rhys lacks genitalia. No balls, no penis. The words that I use in this fic are: crotch, groin, nub and sometimes penis, as there is a little bit of something left. Later, Jack and Rhys explore the possibilities of physical pleasure, and besides having anal sex, they also play with those parts of his body.  
> Testosterone supplements are also mentioned in this work; I feel like I should mention that for some reason.
> 
> My intention was not to offend anyone and I'm sorry if that happened. I'm not making fun of disabled people, I'm not "fetishizing" them, I'm merely writing stories.

Rhys had been Handsome Jack’s personal assistant for eight months when he met him at that bar. In that relatively short amount of time, Jack had managed to hit on Rhys more times than he could count on the fingers of his hands. He still counted them religiously, though. Twenty-eight times. Jack made a move on him _twenty-eight_ times.

He couldn’t blame him. For one, Rhys was aware of his own attractiveness. And two, even though he shot the offers down each time, he never really asked Jack to stop, and never stopped gazing at him longingly under the influence of his own crush and hero worship. He just hoped that the CEO would grow bored of it sooner, because there was little chance that Rhys would ever find it in himself to put an end to it for good.

He pondered over this mystery of his life as he drank his strong alcoholic cocktail, enjoying a calm Friday evening. It could only be calm thanks to having access to the bars and clubs on the executive floor, as there were never many people and the music wasn’t blasting so loud. At least in this one. Rhys never felt the urge to look into the other places, as he only drank alone rarely, often venturing in the lower level clubs with his friends. Since neither one of them had time for him today, he was here, alone and drinking away his stupid crush. He wished the feelings could actually be drowned in the alcohol.

Every day, Rhys had to put up with this _heya, kitten!_ and Jack’s smirks and chuckles and laughing and his concentrated frown as he worked, and it was so hard to resist when Jack offered him everything he could ever want. What harm could a couple dates be to Rhys, right? They could agree on something platonic, maybe a friendship. It would be great.

Except real life didn’t work like that. Real life was full of _“Heya, Kitten!”_ and “What a pleasant surprise…”

Rhys blinked and looked up from his drink, realising that Jack’s voice sounded a little too real next to him. And lo and behold, it was Jack. Rhys wasn’t drunk enough not to recognise a body double. This was the real deal.

“Uh, hey,” he replied, blinking again and again, just to be sure. “Are you… really here?” he asked dumbly.

Jack snorted, and that undignified sound had no right to make Rhys’ heart do flips. “Course I am. I usually go to the other two clubs on this floor, but today I wanted something less packed.” Not asking for a permission, he plopped down onto the bar stool next to Rhys’. “You do realise that this bar is shit, right? Their music, their drinks, their _everything_. I should close this place.”

“I like this place,” the younger man grumbled. He didn’t appreciate Jack’s manners, even though he was his boss. Normally, Rhys would already be shooing the unwanted company off, or pointedly walking away and sitting somewhere else, alone. He didn’t come here to socialize.

“Jeeze…” the CEO muttered. He ordered a scotch, giving the PA a moment to brace himself for whatever he wanted to discuss, and when he got his drink, he turned his attention back to him. “So, why the long face?”

Rhys mumbled something unintelligible, hoping that Jack would understand that he didn’t want to talk about it. He couldn’t really tell his boss about his crush on him, or that he couldn’t ever have a relationship, now could he? All he could do was order another fruity alcoholic drink and be miserable.

“Okay, keep your secrets,” the older man allowed, for a minute sipping his scotch in silence. When he finished it – quite fast, not that Rhys paid him any attention – he turned back to the PA.

“So, since you don’t want to talk about the stuff that’s bothering ya, how about I help ya take your mind off them? What’cha say?”

Rhys blinked, then frowned. Jack wiggled his eyebrows at him. The PA was hardly impressed anymore. “Are you seriously hitting on me _now_?” he asked. Maybe he had too much already, immediately having to bite his tongue at the bluntness.

“Duh, yeah,” Jack shrugged. “I mean, I’ve been pretty interested in you for a while, you’re sexy as hell, and smart, and fun to talk to. Is that what you want to hear? We’re in the same bar on a Friday night, that has to be a sign! C’mon, I know you want this to happen as much as I do.”

Rhys considered just then simply getting up and walking away. He could. The worst thing that would happen would be getting fired, but somehow, he doubted that Jack would. The CEO would understand his reaction, and maybe he would even apologize for his behaviour. He really was a normal human being under the mask of terror that he wore every day. But Rhys stayed rooted in place, because subconsciously, he didn’t want it to end. He enjoyed the CEO’s attention and enjoyed imagining it leading to something more.

Something that he couldn’t have.

“Oh, come on, why are you sad again?” Jack huffed, poking Rhys in the shoulder. “What’s up with ya lately, Pumpkin? Hey, if you want to just talk tonight, I don’t mind it. Order another drink, lay it on me, I’ll be quiet as a fish and offer advice where you need it.” Jack showed him the world’s worst listening face and the corners of Rhys’ lips briefly tugged up.

He looked at his lap, contemplating the offer. Then he realised that there was nothing to contemplate. He couldn’t just tell Jack about the crush. Or could he…?

No, _no_ , he definitely couldn’t. Rhys reached for his glass to take a sip, only then noticing that it was empty. That wasn’t good; he had always been an absolute lightweight.

“I should keep my mouth shut,” he declared importantly. “I’m drunk and should not trust the decisions I make.”

Jack chuckled, and it warmed Rhys. “Well, I’m not drunk, so you can let me make decisions for you,” the older man offered.

Rhys thought about it. Or he thought that he thought about it. He wasn’t really getting any feedback from his brain at that moment. “That sounds like a bad decision but okay. Should I have another drink, Jack?”

The CEO gave him a long once-over. “Not right now, maybe later.”

“That’s wise,” Rhys hummed in approval. “But I’m not going to listen. Hey, b’rm’n,” he gesticulated for the man that supplied him tonight. “I want—”

“Nothing,” Jack slapped Rhys’ hand, shaking his head at the barman, who nodded in approval. “Now, tell me what got you so worked up.”

“You’re no fun,” Rhys complained. Then, with no chance to stop his rambling mouth, he spilled it. “I have a crush on you. And you keep hitting on me. That’s not fair. I want you.” He was, apparently, a very honest drunk. He had some suspicions, but it never got so bad before.

“Wow,” Jack chuckled. “Maybe you had too much. You, uhm, are probably gonna be mad at me for this in the morning, huh?” He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming _flustered_ by the younger man’s words. Then he regained his composure, clearing his throat. “Y’know, you can have me any time. I’m, I’m interested. You know that. So, what’s the matter?”

Rhys squinted at the CEO. He ignored how well the confession actually went in order to try to see through Jack’s words and his intentions. But he hardly even saw Jack, alcohol making his vision sway.

Finally, he granted the CEO with an answer. “The problem is that I want you,” he said. He was satisfied with it, those words explaining it all in his opinion. But at the other man’s sound of confusion, he elaborated: “But I can’t have you.”

“Can’t you?” Jack asked, sounding mildly surprised.

Rhys laughed. “Nah. Can’t. Cannot.”

Something warm pressed against his lips. It took Rhys a lot of effort to pry his own eyes open and see what was happening. He realised that Jack was _kissing_ him. And even while drunk, his body was responding, and he was kissing back. It felt wonderful; he didn’t even remember the last time someone kissed him like that. Or the first time, for that matter. No tongue pushing in, just lips moving against lips, the taste of scotch, mint and _Jack_.

“Oh god,” Rhys said when they parted. It felt like his brain rebooted. Like the world was suddenly divided to _Before the Kiss_ and _After the Kiss_. He had trouble remembering why weren’t Jack and him kissing all the time.

“What’cha say, kiddo?” the CEO asked in a hushed voice. “Why can’t you have me?”

“I think,” Rhys said, wrecking his brain for some coherent thought. “I think I just had you…”

The older man gave him a leer. “You could have more of me, Pumpkin,” he promised.

“Yeah?” Rhys asked stupidly. Then he shook his head, remembering. “No, can’t. Can’t have a relationship. Can’t have you. Cannot,” he insisted.

Jack frowned. “Seriously, why not?”

Closing his eyes tightly shut, Rhys had trouble remembering the reasons. It felt _right_ , suddenly. Being close to Jack, kissing, going to dates, getting drunk together. He wanted. He _longed_.

He whined and let his head collide with the desk of the bar. “Can’t!” he said probably way too loudly. “And can’t tell you. _Want_ to tell you. Baaaad de-c-ision. ‘cohol. M’rnin’.”

Somehow, Jack decoded the mess of words and understood. “Yeah, that might be wise.” He gestured to the barman, paid for their drinks and then swung Rhys’ cybernetic hand over his shoulder, dragging him to his feet. “Alright, champ, time to get you home.”

* * *

**The next day**

On Saturday morning, Rhys woke up with a headache and a lot to explain. Vaughn was furious, having almost had a heart attack when the CEO dragged the almost unconscious PA to their shared apartment. Rhys would have to pay for their arcade party nights many times until the incident was forgiven.

But Vaughn, however it hurt to say it, was the least of his concerns. Jack was a much bigger problem. Rhys didn’t remember much of what was said last night, but he knew that he did something terrible. Not only because coming home drunk, with his boss taking care of him until he was shooed away by his roommate, was disconcerting, but mainly because of the echomail that Rhys got in the morning. It was an invitation to come to Jack’s penthouse for lunch and explain the things that he said yesterday. _That_ was a huge giveaway that he might have said something terrible. The only thing that he could be sure about was that he didn’t drunkenly reveal his secret, because then Jack wouldn’t bother talking to him ever again.

Popping a hungover pill into his mouth, Rhys went through his morning routine, trying to focus on it and not on the inevitable conversation. Even if he declined the invitation, he would have to face Jack on Monday.

Dressed in some of his best clothes, rid of his headache and not ready at all, Rhys set on the long journey to the penthouse. He kind of felt bad for Jack having to go all that extra distance because of him. Getting there from Rhys’ apartment took almost fifty minutes.

He tried not to think too much as he walked and took different trains and lifts. He really didn’t know what to expect and decided he would improvise when he got there and Jack, hopefully, filled him in. When passing through the Hub of Heroism, Rhys made a quick stop at a sweets shop, buying an expansive box of chocolates that he knew Jack would like, either as a thanks for taking him home, or as a sorry for whatever he did.

When he finally stood in front of the door of the penthouse, Rhys took a deep breath and steeled himself for anything. He rang the bell and waited, wanting to already be done with it. Every second lasted a year and it was killing him. To imagine that he would have to awkwardly sit through a whole lunch…

The door opened suddenly and seemingly on its own. Rhys stepped in, knowing his way around the penthouse. He’d already been there a couple times in the past, fetching some documents to the CEO.

Said man was found in the kitchen, apparently finishing the lunch. He turned to Rhys when he walked in and gave him a very uncharacteristic shy smile. The PA had to check twice that he wasn’t dealing with a double.

“Uh, hey,” he spoke up when the older man remained silent. “I, uhm… brought you chocolate,” he gestured with the box before putting it down on the kitchen isle. “I’m— Thanks for getting me home yesterday and… Sorry for whatever I did…?”

At that, Jack looked at him almost guiltily, and suddenly, cold dread swallowed Rhys. It had to be _bad_ , worse than he imagined. “What did I do, Jack?” he asked, voice thin.

“You didn’t do anything,” the CEO assured him. “I… kissed you. Uhm, sorry.” For maybe the first time ever, Rhys saw him fidget nervously. “We talked about, about your _crush_ , and uh, my crush, and you… said that you want to but can’t? But I didn’t understand why you can’t. So, I was hoping you would explain…”

Rhys stared with wide eyes. The fact that the CEO of Hyperion was stuttering before him wasn’t his top priority anymore. The fact that he would have to either say the truth, which only maybe a dozen people in the world knew about, or refuse to dignify Jack with the reason why he was rebuked and possibly insult him, was now taking over his mind, slowly but surely sending him into panic.

He didn’t want to hurt Jack. But he didn’t want to tell him, either. It was almost impossible to tell people. Only his family knew, plus Vaughn and three of his exes. He didn’t bother telling any other potential partner, knowing how it would go. But Jack was unlike any other potential partner, and he probably really deserved to know, even though it would inevitably end whatever was between them.

“Hey. _Hey_ , Rhys,” the older man spoke right in front of him. “Come on, calm down. Take a deep breath. Nobody is hurting you, Pumpkin.”

Rhys tried to focus on the voice, but it was hard. Years of trauma, mocking and hiding the truth were telling him to run, to lie. But Jack was a warm, solid presence close to him, and when the CEO offered his arms, Rhys accepted the hug. Burying his nose in the older man’s neck, Rhys got to smell his cologne, and he really liked it. He imagined finding the same scent on his clothes, or in the bathroom in the morning, and his heart _ached._ Even after all those years, he wanted to believe that this could be his life.

Yet, when he finally found the strength to pull away and speak up, Rhys said: “I’m sorry, Jack. I can’t… have a relationship. And I’m not a one-time thing kind of guy.”

“Okay,” the CEO sighed, resigned. “Okay, I understand that, okay. But will you at least tell me why?”

Rhys bit his lip. He could already feel tears forming in his eyes. Of humiliation, sadness, he didn’t know. He took a shaky breath and nodded, nothing to lose. If Jack laughed at him – and that was a _certainty_ , of course he would laugh, like all of them – he could just run out of the penthouse and never return. Ask to be reassigned to janitorial.

“I…” he began, unsure where to start. In the end, he decided to give the shortest, least emotional version of the story, the one he gave to doctors when he underwent the cybernetic surgeries.

“I had an accident when I was a kid. I, uhm, got splashed with a lot of boiling water and had severe burns. I don’t— I have _scars_ , lots of them, on my legs, and I— Oh god, this is so hard to say.” He paused, turning his gaze to the ceiling and blinking back tears of shame. “I don’t have anything. _Down there_. Nothing.”

Letting out a long breath, Rhys was so glad that it was finally out that he forgot to brace himself for the incoming laughter. But it didn’t come. Carefully, he lowered his gaze, meeting the other man’s mismatched eyes.

Jack blinked, frowning slightly. “That’s…” he gesticulated vaguely, Rhys having no idea what the gesture meant. “Don’t take it wrong but… _That’s_ it? I mean, is that the reason why you can’t date me?”

Slowly, Rhys nodded, watching the eyebrows crawl up on Jack’s forehead.

“The _fuck_ , kiddo?” the CEO asked, letting out a long sigh. “I expected that, I dunno, you’d tell me that you took a blood oath and a billion assassins would come after you if you dated someone, or that you have been cursed by an old witch and will suck the life out of anyone you love, or something, not that you’re asexual. Freaking… Rhys, that’s not a reason to… Or am I missing something? Wai— Don’t cry…”

Rhys blinked, but the tears wouldn’t stop rolling down his cheeks. He was confused, not sure what to say or think, or _feel_ for that matter. In the end, he settled for: “It was a reason for everyone else.” His voice was pathetic and weak. “I can’t have sex and I’m a-a freak…”

“Freak?” Jack scowled. “Don’t _ever_ say that about yourself, Rhys. Just because you don’t have a dick or balls, that doesn’t make you a freak. Scars— Scars don’t make you a freak.”

The way Jack’s voice hitched on the word _scars_ didn’t escape Rhys. It gave him the courage to ask: “Why are you not disgusted, Jack?”

“Dis— I— _C’mon_ , Rhys. I’m better than that.”

He wasn’t going to tell him, then. Rhys’ face fell, shoulders slouching, though he didn’t really have any right to be disappointed after it took him so long to confess.

Jack must have noticed the change in his demeanour and sighed. It took him quite some time to actually speak up, but Rhys felt like he knew what the CEO was going to say even before that. He also wanted this to be over already.

“What if I showed you my face – the face under my face – and if you’d be still interested in me knowing what I really look like, then we could talk about it some more.”

“What?” Rhys gasped, looking Jack in the eyes. That wasn’t what he expected to be said. “Y-you don’t have to,” he said automatically, even as he burned with curiosity.

“If it helps you not feel like a _freak_ , I will,” Jack declared resolutely. Rhys wasn’t sure how whatever was under the mask could help him not feel bad about himself, but he kept his mouth shut, waiting.

When Jack recognised the younger man’s interest, he started swiftly unlatching the clasps of his mask. Most of them were secured by magnets, so it was easy. Within ten seconds, he held the mask in his hand. “It’s ugly,” he warned before he lowered it.

Rhys’ eyes widened. There was a scar on Jack’s face, a big scar. He recognised burn marks, but he had no idea what could be making the scar _blue_. It seemed to _shine_ a light blue hue, which was… He’d never seen anything like that.

He wanted to ask what happened. He wanted to ask when. He wanted to ask if it hurt, and what skincare routine did Jack have to make the ache go away. Instead, when he opened his mouth, what came out was: “Can I?” He outstretched his hand towards his face.

Jack took three deep breaths, exhaled slowly each time. “Yeah, go ahead. It doesn’t hurt to touch, don’t worry.”

Doesn’t hurt _to touch_ , Rhys noted. He let his fingers explore the hardened skin, followed the edges of the deep scar until he found a piece of clean, smooth skin on Jack’s jaw. It was so warm, god, he wanted to kiss it. Both the clean skin and the scar.

“You aren’t disgusted,” Jack pointed out, though there was a hint of insecurity in it.

Finally, Rhys caught on. He let his hand fall and looked the CEO in the eyes when he said: “No, I’m not. I… would still be interested in you. I mean, _am_. I still am. Interested in you.”

A small smirk played on Jacks lips. Even vulnerable and exposed before the younger man, he managed to appear absolutely in control. “Well, I might not know how your scars look or how deep they reach, but I sure as hell am still interested in you, too.”

* * *

**Some months later**

A light buzzing sound had settled in Rhys’ ears, and he knew that if he didn’t do anything about it, it would turn into panic. He felt like there were a thousand eyes watching him when in reality there were none. Jack wasn’t even in the room with him.

Taking deep breaths and counting in his head like the therapist taught him, Rhys slowly fought through the wave of anxiety until he was able to continue unpacking. He knew that his first night at Jack’s would be hell, but he didn’t expect to panic at the prospect of taking a shower, alone. As if the shower stall could judge him, the bathroom tiles gossiping about his mauled body.

He was quick about it, using Jack’s shampoo and body wash, a borrowed towel. Then he put on his pyjamas, which was a whole new ordeal. Silently, he cursed past-Rhys who made the decision for them both with no regard for present-Rhys and his feelings about wearing shorts and a tank top to bed. What seemed like a great idea – _if I don’t give myself the choice to wear long pants, I won’t chicken out of wearing shorts_ – was now in his eyes a terrible mistake.

“Rhysie, are you okay there?” Jack knocked on the door, startling him. “You’re taking long and I don’t hear the shower.”

“I’m okay,” he assured his boyfriend quickly. “Just having a moment.”

Saying it like that helped. He knew that if he asked Jack to lend him some sweatpants, he would, no questions asked. But past-him decided that they ware going to wear shorts, and if past-him thought that it was a good decision, he couldn’t argue.

After putting the clothes on and brushing his teeth, Rhys left the bathroom. He frowned when he didn’t find Jack in the bedroom, having to resist the urge to go hide himself under the bedsheets. Finally, his boyfriend emerged from the living room, already showered and changed.

“I figured I could use the guest bathroom, besides, I really needed to piss and—” he stopped abruptly when his eyes landed on Rhys.

The younger man’s breath hitched. That was _not_ the reaction he was hoping for. He closed his eyes, held his breath and counted to five.

“Wow, I…” Jack spoke up again, his voice much softer, the one he saved only for his personal life. “I was not expecting that, I thought… Rhysie, look at me.” He walked closer, cupping the younger man’s cheek. When Rhys reluctantly opened his eyes, Jack smiled. “I’m happy that you decided to show me the scars. I just simply wasn’t expecting it to happen tonight. I’m happy that you trust me with this.”

A stone seemed to fall off Rhys’ chest, and he could finally breathe deeply. He nodded, taking a moment to compose himself, and then leaned in and kissed his boyfriend. He still loved kissing Jack above anything else. He spent all days thinking about those lips on his, both the synthetic and the real ones. Right now, Jack’s mask was off, and his lips were a little rough but so, so warm.

“Let’s go to bed, huh?” the older man suggested when they parted.

Per Rhys’ request, they left the lights on for a while longer while they laid down. They snuggled close and Jack pulled a bedsheet over them, but after a while, Rhys began to feel too hot and untangled one of his legs from the material, letting it slip to light. Immediately, Jack’s eyes were fixated on it.

Rhys didn’t even have the time to become self-conscious before Jack was asking: “Can I touch you there, babe?”

Rhys nodded fast, probably giving away how much he longed to feel Jack’s hands on this part of his body for the first time. Soon into their relationship, they figured out that Rhys was seriously touch-starved. Now that he had a person to hug him and kiss him, someone who he trusted not to judge him, he wanted to have it _all the time._ He would sneak up to Jack in the office to steal some cuddles before a meeting, and sit in his lap during lunch. Jack, for his part, was equally needy, so it worked perfectly for them.

Jack kept eye contact with the younger man while he placed his hand in the middle of his bare thigh. The skin there wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected. At some point in his life, Rhys underwent a few surgeries that attempted to make the scars less prominent, and the roughest, most protruding patches were removed. What was left was still bumpy and in no way smooth skin, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Jack’s scar. He let his hand move up and down, fingertips exploring every dip, enjoying the trust that Rhys put into him. If he understood it correctly, he was the first person ever who wasn’t a medical professional who was allowed to feel the scarred skin.

“Feels good,” Rhys sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing. “I can’t really feel if your palm is warm or cold, but I can feel that it’s _there_. That’s such a good feeling, I can’t even explain it. I usually can’t feel anything there except for, like, impact, but I can feel you now.” He rambled on, much to his boyfriend’s amusement.

Eventually, Jack moved his hand lower. On the calf, the skin and tissue wasn’t so disfigured, but it was also obvious that not many attempts were made to fix the lighter damage there. He continued to move lower until he met the skin of Rhys’ ankle, pristine and smooth. Then he slowly moved his hand back up.

“It’s almost like you’re…” Rhys said when he felt a hand on his hip, not suggestive but warm and comforting. “Like you’re _fascinated_ by them…”

“I guess I am,” Jack shrugged, and Rhys frowned.

“They are scars.”

“Yes, they are,” Jack chuckled. “But you know what more?” He waited until the younger man made a confused sound, lip slightly pouting and tempting him to kiss it instead of finishing the thought.

“They are a part of you, Rhysie. A secret part that only I can see. Only _mine._ ”

Rhys blinked, warmth spreading on his cheeks, and also surprisingly, in his belly. “I’m yours,” he repeated, tasting the words. They felt nice on his tongue.

* * *

**Not many weeks later**

“Ready, Cupcake?”

Oh boy, was Rhys so _not_ ready for this. No matter how many times did Jack prove him that he didn’t mind his disabilities, he still felt like the older man should break up with him the moment he actually saw him. His therapist suggested taking small steps, described various scenarios that could help them finally get there, but Rhys didn’t think either one of them was good enough, so he decided to just… do it.

They soon figured out that he would never be able to just _do it_ , so he asked Jack to take the first step. They would be standing there in the middle of the bedroom forever if they had to wait for him to pull the underwear down himself.

“Yes,” he said, voice embarrassingly high. He was glad that Jack didn’t ask him if he was sure, because he couldn’t lie to him. No, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t die the second someone saw him, or that Jack wouldn’t laugh and walk away. But he was sure that he wanted to do this, so he bit his tongue, gripped his partner’s shoulders and didn’t stop him when he started pushing his clothes down.

Rhys’ whole body started trembling when the boxers hit the floor, pooling around his ankles. He couldn’t bring himself to look down, even though he knew well what he would see, and definitely _couldn’t_ look up to see Jack’s expression. If it were up to him, time could be frozen forever in that moment. Jack’s _Schrodinger’s reaction_.

“Rhysie, shh,” the CEO soothed, pulling him into a strong hug. Rhys could accept that, yeah. As long as he wasn’t made to see Jack’s opinion on his body written on his face. Plus, pressing close to his boyfriend hid his body from view. Jack could probably see his ass now, but that wasn’t important, there were almost no scars there, his backside safe from the accident that damaged his front.

For a few minutes, they remained locked in a tight embrace, rocking slightly from side to side as the older man soothed the younger, panicked man in his arms. When the fear-induced irrationality finally left Rhys alone and he was able to pull away, Jack smiled at him kindly and kissed him. His eyes didn’t curiously stray downwards, but they didn’t avoid Rhys’ body either.

“How do you feel?” Jack asked, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with a thumb, using his tactility against him.

“It’s done,” Rhys noted, letting it wash over him. “Now you know how I look. I, uhm, what do you think? Honestly.”

“Honestly? I dunno. I didn’t know what to expect. It looks like it was very painful. I— Rhys. Come on. This changes nothing.” He sighed, connecting their foreheads. “I still… I love you, idiot.”

Rhys gasped. Those words erased everything that was on his mind, absolutely shutting him up. _Love_ … He didn’t even think…

“I love you, too,” he heard himself saying. “Jack, I—”

“You’re a self-conscious dumbass, I know. My dumbass…” Jack leaned down, kissing him and pulling him close again. Slowly, he turned them, so Rhys’ back was to their bed.

“Are you ready for me to show you how much I love you and your body?” he asked, a playful smirk on his lips. That was the plan for the night, to try something new, but Rhys knew that if he didn’t feel like going through with it, Jack wouldn’t ask anything of him. If he wanted to just go to sleep, or maybe give Jack a blowjob, the older man would be okay with it and didn’t blame him.

But Rhys was done with shame and fear controlling his personal life. He nodded, and before he could say it out loud – that he definitely wanted to do it – Jack shoved him and he fell back, sprawling on the soft mattress.

“Oof,” Rhys said quietly, blinking in mild confusion. He didn’t resist while Jack moved him into a better position, but he covered his crotch with his hands, telling himself that it was only for now, that later he would put the hands away.

Of course, he didn’t, even as Jack leaned over him and kissed him again, pushing his tongue into the younger man’s mouth. Rhys moaned, using one hand to pull Jack closer, wrapping it around his shoulder until he was almost laying on top of him. One of Jack’s knees moved between his thighs, and he reluctantly parted them in favour of getting even more of his boyfriend on himself.

Out of breath, Rhys turned his head to the side to escape more kisses, and Jack continued to pepper little pecks all the way to his ECHO port where he planted a wet, messy kiss over the surgery scar on his temple. Rhys shivered at the unusual contact and Jack chuckled against his skin, setting on another trail down the side of his face to his neck.

“J-Jack,” Rhys sighed shakily, twisting to steal one more kiss. Then Jack was trailing his lips over his collar bones, the tattooed one first, then the clean one, and then suddenly the surgery scars on his right shoulder. By that point, Rhys was red in the face, flustered. He loved the attention, relaxed into it easily.

“Rhysie,” the other man purred, moving higher to suck a hickey under his jaw. When he was satisfied with leaving a bright red mark, he looked Rhys in the eyes and asked: “How are ya feelin’?”

“Good,” Rhys answered without hesitation. “Awesome. Please, g-go on.” He hoped that he looked as brave as he felt in that moment, but he doubted it, because Jack kept staring at him for another couple seconds before he believed him.

A warm, big hand wrapped around his wrist, the one that still stubbornly kept covering his crotch, and Rhys relented, letting Jack pull his hands above his head. The older man checked in with him with a nod, and then winked. “Keep them there, okay?” he said.

Rhys was more unnerved by the wink than by having his hands above his head. After all, he could still use them if he needed, wanted. For now, he kept them in place, knowing that Jack wouldn’t do anything bad to him.

Humming in content, Jack slowly pulled away until he was sitting on his haunches. He planted a couple kisses on Rhys’ chest and belly on the way, though he didn’t get even close to his waistline as not to make the younger man uncomfortable. Then he wrapped his hands around each of Rhys’ ankles and pulled them apart, moving himself between his PA’s legs. His eyes remained fixed on the younger man’s while he leaned in and kissed the top of his foot.

It _tickled_ , but it was also warm and wet and made Rhys gasp. He didn’t have the time to process the situation before Jack continued, kissing up to his ankle, down his shin, all the while with their gazes locked, not allowing Rhys to focus on anything but the blue and green of Jack’s eyes.

As Jack progressed lower, the sense of touch in Rhys’ legs grew weaker, until he wouldn’t be able to tell where Jack was if he wasn’t looking at him. The older man chose to lay his… _worship_ – it could only be called that – where the scars were the thickest and the skin the most damaged, until he got back to the healthy parts of the younger man’s body, kissing his hip bone.

Overwhelmed, Rhys had to break eye contact when he felt the tickle of his boyfriend’s breath on his lower belly. But then he whimpered, heat once more spreading on his cheeks when he noticed how the CEO looked. The _CEO of Hyperion_ was bowed before him, back arched in an enticing way, the expression on his face nothing but love and admiration. And all of that for _Rhys_. He had the most powerful man in the universe basically worshipping his damaged body.

Something seemingly new but familiar stirred in his abdomen, something that he was sure he used to feel only when he was taking testosterone supplements in the past, and he whimpered, confused by his own emotions.

Jack took it as a positive sound and pulled away again to do the same with his other leg, starting at his ankle and progressing higher, only this time, he chose the less damaged skin, and Rhys could feel things that he couldn’t feel before. Fingertips on the bottom side of his knees, on the back of his leg, something wet on his inner thigh. He kept letting out little sighs to let Jack know that it felt _good_ , and the older man seemed spurred on by them.

In moments like this, Rhys sometimes had ugly, dark thoughts. He wondered if maybe the scars were actually doing it for Jack, that it was some kind of a kink and Rhys just waltzed into his arms, and none of what they had was genuine. And when he noticed that the older man was half-hard, his dick already tenting his underwear, he was tempted to ask whether it was true. But Jack noticed his gaze and gave him a shy smile that Rhys knew was sincere.

“I like that you’re enjoying this,” the older man confessed. “The sounds you make, the way you squirm… I’m a lucky man.”

Cheeks a deep shade of red, Rhys realised that he was gripping the sheets above his head so tightly he was probably ruining them. He truly was squirming, enjoying all those new sensations. Jack had never been so thorough with showing him how much he liked him and his body before. And when he took up where he left off, kissing at Rhys’ inner thigh and so close to his crotch now, all negative thoughts dissipated as the younger man ached to get even more of it. He wanted Jack’s lips _there_ , and he had half a mind to tell him to stop teasing and just do it.

This time, Jack didn’t kiss the way up to Rhys’ hip bone, instead opting to inch towards his groin. He caught his eyes again, a silent question, and when Rhys nodded, Jack planted a hesitant kiss on the scarred flesh between his legs.

Rhys was _definitely_ more sensitive there than on his thighs, and the sudden feedback that he got almost gave him whiplash. He moaned, closing his eyes for a second and relishing in it. In a way, it wasn’t much different from being kissed on his ankle. But this felt… _intimate_. Nobody touched him there, not even himself. He had to take care of the area, wash it and exercise almost religiously to make sure the scar tissue didn’t grow too stiff and end up restricting his leg movement, but he never took the time to rub these places with his fingers. He didn’t feel the urge to do that in a long time, but now he wanted, _needed_ Jack to do just that, kiss him, touch him, suck him, _anything_.

“That feels good?” the older man asked, and Rhys could _scream_ , because now that he was finally discovering this brave new world, Jack had that audacity to stop and check in.

“ _Do it again_ ,” he whined, wiggling his hips closer to Jack’s face. He heard a strange sound coming from the other man, so he opened his eyes right in time to catch his expression right before Jack bent down again and licked a stripe from Rhys’ waistline down to the barely two-inch disfigured nub that remained of his penis. The CEO’s eyes were wide open, and he looked like he struck a vein of eridium. He was definitely enjoying bringing his boyfriend pleasure.

“Aaah,” Rhys moaned, his hips moving up to chase after the sensation. He heard Jack chuckle before he repeated it, finally doing what Rhys wanted and licking, kissing and sucking everywhere. Each touch sent sparkles up the younger man’s spine, and they danced under his eyelids. It felt so _good_. And then Jack pushed his legs open wider, licked up his perineum, and Rhys howled, desperate for something, but he didn’t know what. He felt light-headed, and for a second he got scared that his body wasn’t aware that he didn’t have a penis that could get erect and it was sending the blood from his brain south anyway.

“Shit, Pumpkin, you’re wet,” Jack groaned. Then his breath was over Rhys’ penis, and he licked the tip of it, licking the droplet of thick, clear fluid away.

Rhys shouted, hands losing grip of the sheets as they flew down, though what he wanted to do with them, he didn’t know. The feeling was _intense_ , as if the only nerves in that spot that survived were the ones made to feel pleasure. He wanted to feel it again, but he was scared he might go crazy, something building up in him and threatening to shatter him into tiny pieces.

“You okay?” Jack asked with obvious concern in his voice, catching the younger man’s hands before he could accidentally slap either one of them.

“Y-yeah,” Rhys nodded, licking his lips. God, his mouth felt dry. “I-I think I want more,” he added, taking the leap and deciding that if he died of weird sensations and pleasure, it would be totally worth it.

“You think?” Jack asked incredulously, laughing. “Did I fry your brain, Pumpkin?”

“Shut up,” the younger man frowned. Jack was killing the mood, and he could feel himself quickly cooling off. He already missed the feeling of butterflies dancing in his stomach, and his abdomen clenching, and the heat.

Fortunately, Jack didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. He leaned to the nightstand for a bottle of lube, presenting it to the younger man. “So, still wanna go through with this?” he asked, but he was already opening the lid.

“ _Yes_ ,” Rhys hissed. “God, Jack, stop _teasing_! Do I _look_ like I want to stop?”

“Hmm, I dunno…” the CEO hummed, playful smirk on his face. He licked his lips, and Rhys cursed him, reminded of what that tongue could do to him if it pressed in the right places. “Guess I’ll have to believe ya…” he decided at last, gripping the underside of Rhys’ knee with his left hand and pushing it up, and smearing lube between his ass cheeks with the other hand.

It was slick and reminded Rhys of all the ointments and cremes that he used to use when treating the recovering burns, but the feeling of a thick finger circling around his ass hole was completely new. He arched into it, longed for it, to feel the moment Jack’s finger penetrated him. When it finally happened, his eyes snapped open. It was different than he expected but not bad.

“That’s it, Kitten, nice and easy,” the man above him murmured, leaning up to kiss him slowly. He started moving the finger in and out, adding more lube to make sure Rhys didn’t feel any discomfort.

Jack took a lot of time prepping him, giving Rhys time to get used to it but also to explore the new sensations. One particular spot made him feel almost as good as what they were doing previously, and gradually, he grew hot and flustered again.

“I think you’re ready for me, babe,” the older man announced after some time, moving three fingers in Rhys’ hole smoothly.

“Then what are you waiting for?” the younger man asked, voice whiny. “Fuck me already, Jack. Please?”

“Impatient little thing,” the CEO hummed, though he sounded like that was definitely doing it for him. He quickly shucked down his own underwear and lubed himself up, giving his shaft a couple strokes before he positioned the tip at Rhys’ entrance.

When the head of Jack’s dick slipped in, both men groaned in unison. Rhys clenched down, feeling like he was being impaled, and it felt surprisingly good, and Jack swore, barely holding back from thrusting all the way in. He rolled his hips maybe a little too quickly, but the long foreplay was getting to him, and he hoped that Rhys wouldn’t mind that he wouldn’t last.

“ _Jack_ ,” the younger man whined, canting his hips to get even more of Jack even as he bottomed out. “This feels so good…”

“Yeah?” the top asked, pulling out and thrusting back in sharply. Rhys arched and cried out, his face scrunching up in confused pleasure.

“Do that again, Jack,” he ordered. “Fuck me already, you stu—”

They never learned what he wanted to call the CEO, because Jack started thrusting right then, working himself up to a fast pace that effectively shut the PA’s mouth but wasn’t too harsh on his virgin ass. _Fuck_ , just the thought of being the _first_ one who got to do this sort of things to his Rhysie almost caused him to come too soon.

“Dammit, Rhys…” he moaned before connecting their lips in a sloppy kiss. “I love you so much, you can’t even imagine. You’re perfect, god, even that smart mouth of yours, and your weird fashion sense; love you.”

“ _Jack_ …”

“So _much_ …” He was nearing finish way too fast, so he pulled out, much to the younger man’s dismay.

“Nooo,” Rhys whined. He felt uncomfortably empty without Jack, and he _needed_ more. He didn’t have to wait, thankfully, as Jack flipped him onto his side, thrusting back in under a new angle.

The head of Jack’s dick hit the sweet spot inside of Rhys dead on, and he screamed, clenching up. It felt fantastic, made the heat in his abdomen stir, more fluid leaking from the nub in his groin. He reached down tentatively, touching and searching, but he wasn’t able to make it feel as good as Jack did.

And then Jack set up the same fast pace as before, pounding into the younger man, hitting that spot every single time. Something build up in Rhys again, only this time it was stronger, hotter, and it neared fast. He gripped the sheets with his hands, unsure of what to do other than accept it.

Jack came inside of the younger man with a loud groan, and his last thrust, along with the twitching of his dick and the feeling of hot fluid filling his guts tipped Rhys over the edge. He trembled, gasping and moaning as he rode out the pleasure that he was ninety-nine percent certain was his first orgasm ever.

As soon as he caught his breath, Jack spoke up from behind him. “Holy shit… Did I make you come?”

Rhys laughed. It was rare that Jack was confused and flustered like that, and he wasn’t above enjoying it. “Yeah, I think so,” he hummed lazily, stretching. He clenched down on Jack’s dick and giggled at the resulting hiss as Jack quickly pulled out.

“We need to do that again,” he sighed, turning over to face his boyfriend. “How long till you can get it up again?”

“Rhys…” the CEO said, eyes half-lidded and whole body still lightly shaking from the mind-blowing orgasm.

“Just kidding,” the PA assured him, laughing again at Jack’s almost relieved face. “Hug me,” he demanded, then.

“Anything you want, Pumpkin…” the older man promised, pulling his boyfriend close and wrapping himself around him not unlike an octopus.

“I love you, Jack,” Rhys sighed, calm and satisfied. He didn’t even mind that he was naked. He was exactly where he wanted to be, happy and loved.

“I love you, too, Rhys. You’re perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terribly sorry if anything in this work came off as offending, insensitive or "fetishizing".
> 
> If you actually read this any enjoyed it, please leave a comment. Writing this took a lot of energy and I could use some acknowledgement. ^.^"
> 
> You can find me on [my NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting) and [Tumblr](https://lostelfwriting.tumblr.com/).


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